


Capons and Ambergris and Peacocks

by TheseusInTheMaze



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alpha/Omega, Costume Parties & Masquerades, F/F, Female Alpha, Female Omega, Historical Costumes, Knotting, Lap Sex, Surprised to be Omega
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:33:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26059546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: The Doctor wants to go dancing.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Comments: 4
Kudos: 98
Collections: Femslash After Dark 2020





	Capons and Ambergris and Peacocks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Val_Creative](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/gifts).



> This was a blast to write (and research!), and I hope you enjoy reading it!

"Yaz," the Doctor said, all but bouncing her way into the library, "how do you feel about dancing?"

Yaz looked up from her book. "Depends," she said. "What kinda dancing?"

"There's a million and a half kinds of dancing," said the Doctor, and she flung herself onto a loveseat dramatically, her feet dangling over one arm. "Although you don't have enough legs for some of 'em." 

"No?" Yaz rested her open book on her chest, and she grinned at the Doctor. "How many legs are required?" 

"Depends on the dance," the Doctor said, and she stuck her feet out in front of her and wiggled her toes. "Most human dances require four legs -"

"Excuse me, but humans have two legs," Yaz interrupted.

"Four legs _altogether_ ," the Doctor said, wrinkling her nose and grinning at Yaz. "I'm going by number of legs, not by number of participants." 

Yaz snickered. "Not the usual way of measuring things, y'know," she told the Doctor. 

"You may just be used to the human way of measuring," the Doctor said, her tone earnest. "Even among humans, you lot have come up with so many _creative_ ways of keeping track of things. Like holidays. Love a holiday. One of the signs of intelligent life, up there with decorative urns, or nose piercings." 

Yaz rested her chin on her hand, and her elbow on her palm. She drummed her fingers on her cheek. "You're putting me on," she said. 

"I swear on the TARDIS manual I'm not," the Doctor said. She wriggled around, until she was more or less hanging upside down, her boots off the back of the loveseat. 

"Didn't you get rid of the TARDIS manual? I feel like you told Graham that, ages ago." Yaz stretched her legs out, then her back, her arms over her head. She liked to imagine that she could see the Doctor's eyes tracking the curve of her breasts under her shirt, but that was probably just a fancy. 

The Doctor's face was red, but she was also lying upside down. That had to be why. 

"Not the point," the Doctor said, and her voice was only a little strained. "I wanna go dancin'." She paused. "With you.'

_I'm the only other person around_ , Yaz thought, _so of course she wants to go dancing with me. She likes company, I knew that already. I'm not especially important in this equation, apart from the fact that she wants someone to dance with and I happen to be here._ She jiggled her leg, tried to stop her face from getting hot. She'd been blushing a lot more around the Doctor lately, blushing and fidgeting. It reminded her a little bit of what it was like when she had a rut coming on, but it was way too soon for that sort of thing.

She'd know if she was going into rut - she always got agitated and snappy. 

"So," the Doctor said, and it pulled Yaz out of her own thoughts, "would you wanna go dancing with me?" She righted herself, and then she shook her head quickly, to clear it. 

"Depends on the dancing," Yaz repeated. 

"What kind d'you want?" The Doctor was sitting right way up now, and her hair was a mess. Yaz wanted to ruffle it. 

_Does she go into heats, or ruts? What's designation is she, anyway?_ Yaz stared down at her lap, then up at the Doctor's face, which was hopeful. "I want to dress up," Yaz said. "Someplace I've never been before."

"Loads of places you haven't been before," the Doctor said, and then she stood up, and... flopped next to Yaz, one arm going around her shoulders. It was more handsy than she usually was, but then again, now it was just the two of them. "So. Dress up." She gave Yaz a squeeze, and then she bounced upright again. "Venice!"

"Venice?" Yaz blinked. 

"There's an _excellent_ party in Venice, 'round the sixteenth century," the Doctor said, and she grabbed Yaz by the hand, urging her to get up. "Proper masquerade, too. We can wear fancy clothes, those fancy velvet masks tied on with ribbons." She flat out towed Yaz out of the library, towards the wardrobe room. "And we can eat capons and ambergris and peacocks!" 

"Isn't... ambergris what they make perfume out of?" She'd read about that once, in one of the dusty history books that her grandfather had kept around his flat.

The Doctor walked surprisingly fast. Yaz was thinking about perfume now, and the way the Doctor smelled. About how _good_ the Doctor smelled, and that was a bit of a surprise, because normally Yaz wasn't one to really notice scents. She didn't give much thought to being an Alpha, once the painful indignity of puberty had passed over. She wasn't even sure the Doctor had noticed.

Did the Doctor know about that sort of thing? She'd never mentioned it before. And alright, Yaz had caught the occasional whiff of... something from the Doctor, but who could even tell, considering the other woman was technically an alien. Did alien pheromones have the same impact as human ones? What would that even count as? 

"So," the Doctor said, and she stopped so suddenly that Yaz almost plowed into her, "here we are! Wardrobe!" She let go of Yaz's hands to push the door open, and then she was marching into the familiar room. 

Yaz followed after her, and she was smiling in spite of herself, hands in her pockets. "So we're going to be doing this right now?" 

The Doctor paused mid-step, still reaching for a closet door. "D'you not want to?" Her whole demeanor was slumping forward - she looked like a video game character, from that one game Sonya had played obsessively as a teen.

"Nah, I do," Yaz said quickly. "Sometimes I forget the way you hare after ideas is all."

"Hares are great," the Doctor said, and then she was dashing about. "I have _just_ the dress for you, too, you'll see!" 

"Are you gonna wear a dress?" Yaz crossed her arms, watching the Doctor dig through one of the closets. 

"Nah," said the Doctor. "Won't need to. Blend right in, me. Anyway, they don't suit me." 

“You could wear those… y’know, the poofy trousers?” She paused. “Was that a thing that people wore back in the day?” 

“Something is _always_ a thing back in the day, if you go back far enough,” the Doctor said casually. “Especially when you’re in a time machine.” 

“Okay, yes, something is always back in the day, technically.” Yaz said. “But that feels like cheating.”

“What’s the point of playing, if you can’t cheat?” The Doctor said, and she smiled so wide that it made Yaz’s own face ache, just a little. Or maybe her face ached because she was smiling back, because how could she _not_? She was holding a satiny green dress, and Yaz had to admire the way it caught the light. 

"I feel like that's your argument for everything," Yaz said. 

"You should wear this one," said the Doctor, indicating the green dress. "Period appropriate and everything!"

"Y'know," Yaz said, "it might be a little easier to navigate around here if you sorted clothes by period."

"Nah, where's the fun in that?" The Doctor draped the dress over a chair, careful not to let it wrinkle. "Half the joy of picking out clothes is seeing all the _other_ clothes that are on offer that you can use next time." She was pacing now, her coat flowing behind her like the train of a gown. Although maybe Yaz just had gowns on the mind. 

"Doesn't help much when you're in a hurry," Yaz pointed out.

"Time machine, remember?" The Doctor made an expansive gesture, waving her arms about. Her coat looked more like wings now, and Yaz bit her lip to keep from grinning too hard. "But a nice masquerade- that should sort me out!"

"Sort you out?" Yaz shoved her hands into her pockets, rocking on her heels. "Somethin' wrong?"

"Nah," said the Doctor, a little too quickly. "Just restless." 

Yaz wrinkled her nose, then tried to hide that she was wrinkling her nose. The Doctor usually didn't smell like more than her surroundings - warm skin, engine oil, biscuits. There was an undertone now, an undertone she couldn't identify, but it was making her mouth water and her cock swell. 

_Fuck me, this crush is getting dumb_ , she thought dazedly, as the Doctor leaned down to pick up something from the floor. Her backside was covered by her trousers and her coat, but Yaz had a brief urge to just plaster herself against the Doctor's back, rut against her arse.

"Yaz?" The Doctor's voice drew Yaz out of her reverie.

"Sorry," said Yaz, and she rubbed her hands together, clearing her throat. "Was off with the fairies. What was that?"

"I asked what kinda mask you wanted," said the Doctor. She had opened the door to a cabinet, and masks were arranged on a shelf like offerings to a god. "We should try to keep it period appropriate, but we could probably fudge it a _bit_. Not like the folks there are gonna be payin' too much attention to the material, I don't think." 

Yaz approached the cabinet, and she worked hard to keep her face still. She could smell traces of... something on the Doctor, and Yaz wasn't sure what it was. Her mouth was still watering, and her skin was starting to prickle as all the little hairs stood on end. 

"I like this one," she said, and she picked up a blue mask, edged in gold. It had a small peacock feather sticking up on the top, and it shimmered in the light. 

"Oo, good choice," the Doctor said, her tone approving. "I've got a cape that'll go with it, too!"

"I dunno if a cape would suit me," Yaz said. She was grinning, as the Doctor dashed across the room and nearly tripped over a footlocker. 

"Rubbish; capes suit everyone," the Doctor said in a tone of high authority. 

"Haven't you seen _The Incredibles_?" Yaz asked. The Doctor had flung open another cabinet, and was digging through it industriously. 

"Is that the one with the talking dogs?" The Doctor was shoving hangers along a rail, and they rattled, cloaks and shawls and capes swishing as they were pushed aside. 

"No. At least, I don't think so." Yaz paused, frowning. "Been a while since I watched it," she admitted. 

"We could watch it!" The Doctor said, turning around to face Yaz. "You 'n me, movie marathon?"

"After the masquerade, maybe," Yaz suggested. "So our feet can take a break from all the dancin'."

"That is a brilliant idea. You are brilliant, Yaz!" The Doctor was _bouncing_ now, nervous energy leaking out of her like air from a balloon. 

"So in _The Incredibles_ there's a whole rant about why capes are dangerous for superheroes," said Yaz, trying to get back to her original train of thought. "They get caught in things."

"I can relate," the Doctor said, and her eyes flicked over to a pile of multicolored knitted fabric on a nearby chair. "But capes are _brilliant_! And you're not a superhero, so it'll be great! I mean," she added, "I think you're super. And you're a hero, you've saved loads of people, but you're not a superhero in the traditional sense. I suppose you could be, like in that one Monty Python skit - I gave 'em the idea for that one, y'know."

Yaz blinked at the onslaught. 

"So cape," the Doctor said. 

"What mask are _you_ gonna wear, then?" Yaz asked. "Not a dress, but... other than that?"

"Oh, I'll sort something out," the Doctor said, her tone breezy. "This is gonna be brilliant!" 

_I wish I had her confidence_ , Yaz thought, but she smiled in spite of herself. How could she not? 

* * *

Yaz stood in the control room of the TARDIS, peering through the eye holes of her mask, and she wished that she had pockets to put her hands in. The Doctor had told her to "wait here a tick, lemme get ready," and it had been... well, honestly, Yaz wasn't sure how long it had been, since she didn't have a watch and she couldn't read the various instruments scattered across the TARDIS. 

"Sorry for the delay," the Doctor said, and she was dashing in, all frenetic movement. She was wearing a mask that looked a little bit like a unicorn, with a short horn sticking out from the center. The long muzzle went a little bit over her nose, and the whole thing looked to be made of white leather. She was wearing a different coat as well - this one seemed to be made of a deep blue velvet, and was lined with what looked like red satin. Her trousers were still short, but now they were dark red, and she was wearing a waistcoat and a white button down shirt.

"You look... wonderful," Yaz said, her eyes wide. She could feel herself starting to get hard all over again, and she shifted in place, pressing her thighs together. Now was _not_ the time to get an erection. 

Although as wide as the skirt was, it would probably hide it. And the corset drew most of the attention to her cleavage, which also helped.

"So d'you!" The Doctor grabbed Yaz's hand, and she was still practically _bouncing_. "Ready to do some dancing?"

"Is anyone gonna be... y'know, bothered? By us just popping in, I mean." Yaz squeezed the Doctor's hand, and the Doctor let go, beginning to dash around the console in earnest. The unicorn mask had a little mane that flowed out behind her, the tassels bobbing.

"Nah," said the Doctor. "We'll go at carnival time. That's always a big hit in Venice, everyone in masks. Lots of people dropping in from who knows where, mingling, spreading ideas and diseases and new techniques for making beer..." She was pushing buttons, pulling levers. 

"Are we going to get any kind of disease?" Yaz asked hurriedly. "I don't want to catch the Black Death from a flea in someone's wig or something like that."

"Don't be silly, Yaz," the Doctor said. "Would I ever put you in danger like that?"

"Not on purpose," said Yaz. She clung to the console, as the TARDIS juddered and rattled its way through wherever it was it went as it travelled. 

"Oi!" The Doctor pulled her mask back to wrinkle her nose at Yaz, and Yaz grinned, sticking her tongue out at the Doctor. "Nobody was wearing wigs at this point, I don't think," she said. "And anyway, I gave you a booster against all that stuff _ages_ ago."

"Right," said Yaz, a little dazed. She remembered all three of them getting a series of shots that had stung like seven hells. 

"You'll be safe as houses," the Doctor said. The TARDIS stopped shaking, and the Doctor squinted at the readings. "Safer, honestly, considering how many collapse around here." 

Yaz snorted. 

"But you wore the cape!" The Doctor was actually _bouncing_ as she came around, to put her hands on Yaz's shoulders, fingering the silky material. "Suits you."

Yaz flushed, looking down at her feet, then up into the Doctor's eyes. The mask was down again, and the narrow unicorn muzzle was pointing straight at Yaz. "Thanks," Yaz said, and her voice had a rough note to it. Yaz was picking up more of whatever that particular scent was, and it was mixing in with the scent of velvet and leather.

They were staring into each other's eyes for some unknown amount of time, and it should have been cheesy or silly, but it... wasn't. 

The spell was broken by the sound of cheering outside, and Yaz glanced over at the TARDIS door. "Must be havin' fun out there, huh?"

" _Definitely_ ," the Doctor said, and her tone was more fervent than usual. There was more of that scent coming from her, and Yaz had to dig her fingernails into her palms, to keep herself from thinking about leaning over and _biting_ , right there. 

Maybe she was going into rut early. It would be easier to tell, if she could just get away from the Doctor’s scent. But she’d rather chew her own arm off than do _that_.

The Doctor was holding her hand out, practically beaming as her eyes darted between Yaz’s face and the door. “Shall we?”

“Yeah!” Yaz took the Doctor’s hand, and let herself be pulled out the door.

* * * 

They ended up at a party in an old manor house. It was a little bit like those old National Trust houses that her parents sometimes dragged her to, a little bit like some of the other old houses she'd been to since she’d started traveling in time. She was developing a _sense_ for old architecture, and Yaz wasn't sure what to think of that. 

_I am ending up with the strangest knowledge set_ , Yaz thought, as she watched the people on the dance floor. The masks were all of varying quality, although even the ugly ones were impressive. 

The Doctor was having an animated conversation with someone wearing a frog's head mask that looked a little too realistic (what was the chance there were aliens involved? Possibly). 

"I'm just gonna get us some food," Yaz said, indicating the groaning trestle table off to the side. Everything was starting to get a little overwhelming - she could smell people on the edges of rut or heat, and so many people doused in perfume to cover it up. In Yaz's time people took scent suppressants, or wore special sprays, but now... people let it all hang out, metaphorically. It was all overwhelming, and it was feeding the anxiety growing in the pit of Yaz's stomach. 

"Bring me something interesting," the Doctor said. 

_What even counts as interesting?_ Yaz thought, as she made her way towards the table. _How do I know there won't be flamingo tongues or whatever else it is that people ate back then? Or technically now, I guess._

Time travel really was murder on the tenses. 

People kept nodding to her, as she walked by, and she nodded back. In a lot of ways, it felt like going to her mum's work parties. She didn't know anyone, she was wearing clothes she wouldn't normally, and she kept expecting someone to ask her if she had an invitation. 

At least everyone seemed to be ignoring her, beyond the nods. Maybe everyone assumed she had a right to be here, since she was here. Or maybe they didn't care, since she had on a mask and a fancy dress.

There was a lot of fish on offer. She liked fish well enough, but nothing was _labeled_ , so she couldn't tell if something might have anything unpleasant mixed into it. There was what looked like pasta with a fish sauce, and a whole bunch of small pickled eggs, and what looked like... two different kinds of animals sewn to each other, which was not something Yaz was particularly interested in. 

"You have your weird food trends even now," said the Doctor, right by Yaz's ear.

Yaz jumped, and nearly tripped. "You're awfully quiet," she told the Doctor. Her heart was racing, and this close, she could smell the Doctor under everyone else. That same alien scent, but underlaid by something she could _almost_ identify.

"Don't get told that often, let me tell ya," said the Doctor. She leaned heavily on Yaz, her arm around Yaz's waist, her chin on Yaz's shoulder. One of the tassels from her unicorn mane tickled Yaz's neck. It was sending more prickles down her back, and she licked her lips and tried not to think about turning her head and sinking her teeth into the Doctor's neck.

_What am I, a vampire?_

"I'm sure you've heard plenty of things," Yaz said. She cleared her throat. "So. What d'you want?"

"No capons, eh?" Yaz couldn't see the Doctor's face, but she could almost hear her nose wrinkling. "Pity. I was hoping for some."

"What d'you recommend?" Yaz asked. She hated how breathless she sounded. She was getting warm - all the spots where she was touching the Doctor seemed to be warmer than usual, and her whole face was heating up under her peacock mask. 

"Well," said the Doctor, "that's creamed cod, that's wild duck, that's risotto, that's liver, I can see cuttlefish over there..." She grinned. "And that's a cockatrice." She pointed to the sewn together... whatever it was. "Little out of style for this time 'n place, but... someone may be havin' a throwback or something."

"What _is_ it?" Yaz asked. 

"Front half of a chicken, back half of a pig, cooked and sewed together," said the Doctor happily. "

"What d'you like?" Yaz wasn't going to touch the chicken-sewn-to-a-pig thing. That was too weird, although not as unappetizing as the liver. _Why do I find the idea of liver to be so much more off-putting than whatever weird alien stuff the Doctor has given me?_

"I'll try anythin' once," the Doctor said. "Although I've had most of what's on here." She leaned a little harder into Yaz, and Yaz resisted the urge to nuzzle into her neck. She smelled so _good_. "You choose for me, I trust you."

That shouldn't have made Yaz melt the way it did. It really shouldn't have. And yet. "I'm glad you trust me," she said, and her voice only squeaked a little bit. "I'll just... choose."

* * *

Yaz stood in a dark corner with the Doctor, and she fed the Doctor with her fingers. The Doctor had pushed the mask up to the top of her head, so that the unicorn’s long snout wasn’t blocking her mouth, and it looked a bit like she was wearing a very strange headband. 

That hadn't been the original plan. The original plan had been to hand the plate over, and then maybe go dance - they'd come here to dance, after all! Although the dances looked fairly complicated. 

The Doctor's tongue was cooler than a human's, and it kept tracing over Yaz's fingertips. It was also very small and very pink, even in the dim light cast by the torches. Yaz half expected someone to glare at them, even if it was hard to see them, as they were tucked into the dim corner. 

But nobody noticed. There were other couples dotted along the wall, some of them feeding each other, some of them having very intense conversations. Or maybe kissing - it was hard to tell, with all the masks. 

"I haven't been an Omega in a long time," the Doctor said, after she'd sucked some fish sauce off of Yaz's fingertip. 

"What?" Yaz asked, because she must have heard that wrong.

"An Omega," the Doctor repeated. "I haven't been one in a long time." 

"You're an Omega?" _Good job stating the obvious, Khan._

"Yep," said the Doctor. She looked from the plate Yaz was still holding to Yaz's face, her gaze settling on Yaz's lips, under her mask. "What, did I not mention it?"

"No," Yaz squeaked, and oh _no_ , she was getting an erection now. The skirt was loose enough that it wouldn't be obvious, but this did _not_ seem like the right time _or_ place to get an erection.

"Oh," said the Doctor. She frowned, and Yaz could see her wrinkling her nose. "Did it not come up?"

"That kind of thing is usually considered rude to just... bring up," said Yaz. "It's also not something that comes up all that often."

"I mean," the Doctor said, "I assume you know that I know that you're an Alpha."

"You've seen me naked," Yaz said, and her voice was distant to her own ears. "After that thing exploded on me."

"Well, yes," said the Doctor. "If we hadn't gotten it off of ya it would have melted clean through."

"Right," said Yaz. _How is this a conversation we're having? We're just talking about this, as if it's perfectly normal._

"I think I'm going into heat," the Doctor said, as if she was making any other kind of random observation. _I think that's a bomb. I think it might rain. I think I'm going into heat._

"Do ya?" Yaz asked. Her hands were shaking, and she could hear her heartbeat in her ears.

"I remember it being this... restless," the Doctor said, her tone thoughtful. "Like I wanted to fight things and run away at the same time. And _empty_. And it feels odd to feel empty, when I haven't had anything there to begin with, right?"

Yaz made an embarrassing noise, and shoved her plate down onto a nearby little table. 

"You alright, Yaz?" The Doctor sounded concerned. 

"I, uh." Yaz swallowed, and her throat clicked. "Sorry. I've, uh, I've never really been around an Omega in heat."

"What, really?" The Doctor sounded surprised. 

"Nope." It wasn't _strictly_ true. A girl had gone into heat once, at Yaz's school. She'd walked by the nurse's office "on accident" and gotten a full blast of the scent. Then she'd jerked off desperately in the toilet, a hand over her mouth as she fucked into her own fist.

"Oh," said the Doctor. "Sorry 'bout that." She sounded sheepish. 

"It's fine," Yaz said thickly. She cleared her throat. "Fine. Totally fine. We should head to the TARDIS, though." She gave a feeble little laugh. "I don't, uh, don't think that they've got cold showers around here."

"Aw, but I wanted to dance," the Doctor said, and she was _pouting_. Yaz wanted to lean forward, take that pouting lower lip into her mouth and bite it. Then; "Wait, cold shower?"

"Yeah," Yaz said. "Um. Sorry. Just, uh, y'know."

"What are you sorry for?" The Doctor was still frowning, and she was close enough to Yaz that their noses were almost touching. 

"Being crude," Yaz said. Her mouth was very dry. "You know the stereotypes about Alphas, always thinking with their..." She trailed off, cleared her throat again. 

"Don't think you're being crude at all," the Doctor assured her."I could do with a little more crudeness, truth be told. Especially from you!"

Yaz didn't know what came over her. It was a rush of hormones, probably, or possibly the pure, abject terror that came from having the Doctor so close, smelling so _good_. Or maybe it was just the setting, and how it was a weird mix of spooky and romantic?

Yaz kissed the Doctor right on the mouth. It was an awkward kiss, and the muzzle of the Doctor's unicorn mask bumped into the peacock feather at the top of Yaz's mask, as their noses bumped and their teeth clicked. 

The Doctor was clutching at Yaz's shoulders, and she was trembling. She stared at Yaz with wide eyes, and the flickering torches did eerie things to the shadows on her face. 

"I'm sorry," Yaz burst out. "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have done that, it was -"

The Doctor pushed Yaz into the wall, and kissed Yaz like the world was ending, all soft, sweet lips. Her tongue seemed to be everywhere at once, swiping at Yaz's own tongue, tasting Yaz's teeth, stroking the roof of her mouth. Her hands were on Yaz's face, over the mask. Then they moved down to Yaz's shoulders, over her back. She pressed close to Yaz, belly to belly and breast to breast. Yaz fancied she could feel the Doctor's two heartbeats, even though all the muscle and bone. 

Yaz kissed her back, kissed until her head was spinning. It was wet and needy, the Doctor's tongue in her mouth, the Doctor's hands in her hair. 

"I'm so empty, Yaz," the Doctor murmured, and she was pressing against Yaz, needy and panting against Yaz's mouth. "It never felt like this before, I don't think." Then she paused, her hips still rolling against Yaz's front. If Yaz had been wearing her normal clothes, this probably would have made for some excellent grinding. As Yaz was in a dress with a shift and thick tights ("Not period accurate, but they keep your legs warm" was what the Doctor had said when she'd suggested them), it was all a bit muted.

"I..." Yaz mumbled, and she was kissing along the Doctor's neck now, pulling her deeper into the darkness of the corner. The mask kept getting in the way, and she shoved it up, so that she could press her nose into the scent gland under the Doctor's ear (which was higher than a human's, but not that different). 

"Fuck, Yaz," the Doctor whimpered. "Yaz, I think I'm going into heat. I need you, I want... I..." 

_She's falling apart_ , Yaz thought. "What d'you want?"

"I want you to fuck me," the Doctor said, and her voice went high and squeaky when Yaz's hands went to her breasts, squeezing them through all those layers of clothes. 

Yaz nibbled on the Doctor's neck. "We should go back to the TARDIS," she said, but she sank her teeth into the soft skin of the Doctor's shoulder, revealed by the open neck of her shirt, and the Doctor arched into her with a needy sound. 

"Please," said the Doctor, and her voice cracked. Her scent flared, and Yaz shuddered, her cock twitching. 

"We can't... here," Yaz said, and she stepped away, with effort. She pushed her mask back down on her face. "Come on." 

"I can't wait 'til the TARDIS," the Doctor whined, and it was a proper whine, too. 

Of course, Yaz had to kiss her after that. How could she not? She pressed the Doctor into one wall, and she kissed her wet and hard, with tongue and teeth. The Doctor was clutching at her shoulders, and the Doctor's panting breath was hot against her face when they pulled apart. 

The Doctor was slightly more biddable when Yaz took her by the hand, leading her along the wall. Now that Yaz knew the scent of the Doctor's heat, she couldn't seem to get it out of her nose. She fancied that everyone else could smell it as well, although nobody seemed to be giving them a second thought. A lot of people seemed to be involved in their own private rendezvous, truth be told, and Yaz was half convinced that they wouldn't get too many odd looks if they started going at it right there and then.

But no.

As soon as they hit a hallway with a door, Yaz opened it, and tugged the Doctor in with her. 

It was a sitting room. There was a settee, curtains over the window, and the fire in the grate cast just enough light for Yaz to make out the shape of the Doctor's face. Then she was being shoved onto the settee, and the Doctor was straddling her. "Yaz," the Doctor said, "Yaz, Yaz, please, I need it so badly, I need it, I want you, I've wanted it so badly..."

"What've you wanted, Doctor?" Yaz put her hands on the Doctor's hips, squeezed them. The Doctor got up on her knees, her breasts in Yaz's face. 

"I want your knot," the Doctor said. "I _need_ your knot, right now, in me, I've never needed anything the way I need that, I... _fuck_ , Yaz!"

Yaz mouthed at the Doctor's breast through the shirts, the bra. She leaned back to fumble her mask off, dropping it on the cushions next to her. Then she was shoving the Doctor's shirts up, the bra too. It was all tangled around the Doctor's armpits, which was probably uncomfortable, but the Doctor wasn't complaining. She gasped, as Yaz's mouth passed over her nipple, then whimpered. There was some movement - _she must have thrown her mask away_ , Yaz realized, in a distant sort of way. 

The scent of the Doctor's heat was filling Yaz's head like a fog, and it was getting hard to think. She let the Doctor clutch at her hair, and she wished desperately that she wasn't wearing a corset. Wished she wasn't wearing _anything_ , and she could press her sweaty skin against the Doctor's. 

"Are you sure you want to do this here? Like this?" The Doctor was bouncing in her lap, grinding against her and panting in her ear.

"Yes," the Doctor said, her tone desperate. "Yes, yes, please, I need it so badly, Yaz, I'll die -"

"I don't think you'll die," Yaz said, and her tone was only a little teasing. "Have you _never_ gone into heat before?" Not that she had much experience with what heats did to people, come to think of it. Especially on aliens. 

"Haven't had a heat in such a long time," the Doctor panted. "Don't remember it being like this. Fuck, Yaz, please. I'll -"

"Y'need to get off," Yaz said, and then she paused, realizing what she had said. "Of my lap," she added. "So I can, uh." _So I can take my cock out_ , she didn't say, but she may have been thinking it hard enough, because the Doctor nearly fell off of her, standing on trembling legs. 

Yaz pushed her skirt up, pushed her knickers and tights down. Her cock sprang forward, up towards her belly, and she hissed at the cool air. Her cock pulsed in time with her heartbeat, and pre-come dripped down her shaft. 

“Oh,” said the Doctor, and she stared down at it wide eyed. “That’s… wow.” She licked her lips. 

“Sorry,” Yaz said, and she wasn’t sure what it was she was sorry for. 

“Don’t be,” the Doctor breathed. She wasn’t wearing any trousers now, and the desperate scent of her heat knocked Yaz in the face like a punch. She pulled the Doctor closer to her, and she ducked forward, pressing her face into the Doctor’s belly. The skin was soft and warm against her cheek, and the rise and fall of the Doctor’s stomach was comforting. She craned her neck lower, to lap at the Doctor’s vulva, and the Doctor hissed, clinging to Yaz’s hair. “Yaz, I… later.” She was grinding her hips forward anyway, the hard little nub of her clit pressing against the tip of Yaz’s tongue. 

Yaz sat up, rubbing the soreness out of her neck. “Later?” Yaz peered up at her in the flickering firelight. 

“I need your knot. Right now. You can do whatever you want to me, back on the TARDIS, but right now…” The Doctor pushed Yaz back, and Yaz let herself be pushed. 

“You sound like a character in a romance novel,” Yaz said, which probably wasn’t the sort of thing that she should have said in a situation like this, but she wasn’t sure what else _to_ to say. 

“Wrote one of them once,” the Doctor said. She was crouching over Yaz now, her breasts pressing against Yaz’s face. The heat of her cunt could be felt already, as she hovered.

“You did?” Yaz paused. What was she supposed to… do? She’d gotten handjobs, blow jobs, and fucked someone’s thighs, but she’d never actually gone this far. 

The Doctor reached down, holding on to Yaz’s shaft. Her fingers were very warm and very small, and when she pressed the entrance of her cunt to the head of Yaz’s cock, Yaz went utterly still.

“Oh,” the Doctor murmured. “ _Oh_ , this is it, this is exactly it. I can feel it, I’m not empty, I’m…” She clenched around Yaz, and she was so _silky_ , so wet, and the heat was enough to make Yaz’s eyes roll back in her head. 

Yaz didn’t say anything. She clung to the Doctor’s hips, her cock flexing as the Doctor slid all the way down, and then the Doctor’s slick was dripping all over her inner thighs, pasting down her pubic hair. She was rolling her hips up awkwardly, her cock flexing, She’d never felt anything like this, and it was hard to even find the words to _describe_. 

“Yaz, Yaz, Yaz, just like that, Yaz, fuck, Yaz!” The Doctor was babbling as she bounced on Yaz’s cock, and of course she was going to be talking at a time like this. 

Yaz bit the Doctor’s shoulder. She hadn’t intended to - she had meant to say something quippy, or maybe something sexy, or… well, anything, really. But the feeling of the Doctor’s hot cunt around her desperate cock filled her whole world. She thrust up into the Doctor, and she sucked until she could taste metal, sweat, and the double beat of the Doctor’s heart all around her. She might have been sobbing, although who could tell?

The Doctor was still babbling, words pouring out of her like water. Maybe they were even important words, universe saving words. Maybe she should have been taking notes, and she’d know some great secret of existence. Or maybe the Doctor was talking about biscuits, or her weekend with Houdini. Yaz let the talk wash over her, and lost herself in the sweetness, the heat. She kissed up the Doctor’s throat, under her ear, and she let the Doctor’s double pulse race against her lips. 

The Doctor came in a gush, pulsing and squeezing her like a fist. She humped into it, making desperate, embarrassing noises, and she curled forward, her whole body squeezing tight.

“I can feel it,” the Doctor whispered in her ear, and those words seemed to register, because it snapped Yaz out of her trance. “I can feel your knot. You’re getting bigger.”

“You’re getting tighter,” Yaz said, as if that was something that made sense. Maybe. She gasped, and then she groaned as if she was in pain, her whole body rigid as the stiffness inside of her seemed to get stronger. The base of her cock was tight, and then she was all the way inside. She sobbed, and then the Doctor was clamping down around her knot (that must have been her knot, oh _god_ ), and then she was coming. Coming and coming and coming, pleasure ripped out of her like weeds from the garden. Her knot pulsed in time with her heart, and then she was slumping forward as the Doctor made needy little noises over her. 

“Oh,” the Doctor said, and her voice was thick. “Wow.” She shuddered, and then she gasped as another orgasm washed over her, milking more come out of Yaz, as her knot was squeezed desperately. “ _Fuck_.”

Yaz mouthed at the bite mark on the Doctor’s neck. “I’m sorry that was so fast,” she mumbled.

“I didn’t do much better,” the Doctor murmured, squirming. She gave an experimental tug, and Yaz hissed through her teeth, her hips jerking forward again, more come spurting out of her. Then she sighed. “PIty,” she murmured.

“Mmm?” Yaz kissed the bite mark. 

“I wanted to do some dancing,” the Doctor said. She clenched around Yaz’s knot again, and Yaz whined.

“Next time,” Yaz murmured, and she kissed along the Doctor’s jaw. 

“Oo,” the Doctor said, and now she was excited. “We can get ambergris next time, too.”

“Sure,” Yaz murmured. _Next time, we can do this in a bed, lying down. I think my legs are already falling asleep_ “What’s ambergris?” She asked, more to fill the awkward silence as her knot went down.

“Well, okay,” said the Doctor. “So first things first, there’s some history, right?”

Yaz settled in for an explanation, only half listening. The Doctor’s fingers were gently carding through her hair, and the corset boning was digging into her sides. If she wasn’t careful, she’d fall asleep.

_Definitely a bed next time_ , she thought, and she kept her eyes on the Doctor’s animated face.

**Author's Note:**

> This is technically too late for cockatrices, but I couldn't resist.


End file.
